


Da-da.

by Anonymous_Me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, New Relationship, Parentlock, Post-The Final Problem, john is back at 221b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Me/pseuds/Anonymous_Me
Summary: Rosie is learning to use her words.





	

John was finally back home at 221b. The horrible cloud of depression, confusion and, ultimately, lies that he had been wandering around in for the last few years was breaking apart, lifting and burning off like fog with the sunrise.

And that sunrise that warmed him and chased the darkness away? It was provided by the two suns that his new world revolved around - his daughter, Rosie and his madman, Sherlock Holmes. The three of them fit together better than he had ever dreamed they would.

John had been nervous moving back to 221b with his Rosie; he and Sherlock had only just come to the realization that they were _they_ now. That the friendship that had grown between them had finally blossomed into love. What pressure would a child put on them as a new couple? He was afraid it would end before it really had a chance to start.

As it turned out, John was nervous for nothing. Living at Baker Street with a baby was just the same normal day-to-day routine of feeding and washing, crying, napping, playing and being tired beyond reason that every couple went through. It was manageable because there were two people there to do the work again. Two people who loved Rosamund to the ends of the earth and, as it happened, each other as well.

"'Da-da', Rosie. Can you say 'Da-da'?" John was sitting on the sofa, holding Rosie's hands and bouncing her on his knees. He was trying to coax the word out of her. She giggled and a dimple creased her chubby cheek. "Come on, darling girl, say 'Da-da' for me". Bounce-bounce-bounce.

Rosie pursed her pink lips and blew a bubbly raspberry at her father. This started her giggling all over again whilst John retrieved the burp cloth from his shoulder to wipe off his face.

"Oh, very nice. I should have uncle Mycroft give this a try. See if you give him the same treatment." John flipped the cloth back into his shoulder and brought his girl in for a kiss. She grab bed his cheeks and made smoochy sounds of her own.

"Next time he is over, we should try that. I never miss an opportunity to see someone spit on my brother." Sherlock came out of the kitchen with a cup of tea for John and cup of juice for Rosie. He placed the tea onto the table, the juice cup in Rosie's hand and a kiss on John's forehead. "Not getting anywhere with 'Da-da'?" Sherlock swooped the girl up into his arms and got her giggling some more.

John frowned, "Not yet, no." He picked up his teacup for a sip, "Thanks love."

"Don't worry, she's brilliant, she'll be talking our ears off in no time. Ouch!" Rosie had gotten the hand not holding her cup into Sherlock's hair and was pulling it. And banging the cup on his shoulder.

"You know she's going to pull your hair every time she gets near it, yeah?" John got up to rescue Sherlock's curls from his daughter' grasp. "Can't say that I blame her though. I like to pull too."

"No, it's fine John," _yank_ "I'll get used to it, eventually. She just pulls it harder than you do." The side of Sherlock's face closest to the hair-pulling and shoulder-pounding was wrinkled up in smiling discomfort. "We're fine."

~

"Da!" Rosie shouted in delight as John walked into her upstairs room. She was standing up in her cot, stuffed bee in one hand and the corner of her favourite blanket in the other, all smiles and dimples for her father.

John smiled back, "Good morning my Rosie girl, and how are you this morning?" He glanced at the clock by the changing table - it was ten minutes to 6. "This _early_ morning."

"Da!" She reiterated her earlier point with enthusiasm, tossing the stuffed bee at him for emphasis.

"Full of energy already, I see. You are going to wear your old dad out." John yawned so big that his chin nearly hit his chest and that got the baby girl laughing again. "Yes, your dad is tired. And o ld. I'm so delighted you find that so very funny."

"Da!" Rosie gave up on the blanket she was still holding and raised her arms to John to get him to pick her up.

"Let's get you freshened up and then go wake Sherlock up for some breakfast."

Rosie thought this was a fine plan and agreed by making a sound somewhere between a raspberry and a grunt.

"I feel the same way about him myself, sometimes. But I love him, so what am I gonna do?"

"Da!"

"'Da-da', try 'Da-da'." John was starting to think he was going to resign himself to just being called 'Da'.

And that was fine.

~

John still worked at the clinic when they needed extra hands. He enjoyed being a doctor and getting out of the flat to do the thing he trained so hard to do made him feel he was helping. Also, the extra income was nice.

One day after a shift, John came home to Sherlock feeding Rosie in the kitc hen. He was tired and wanted something to eat, a shower and a snuggle with his two loves.

Sherlock looked nervous and John knew he had something he wanted to tell him.

"John, I want to tell you something, but I'm not sure how you will take it." Rosie was in her high chair smearing something that looked like lumpy carrots or sweet potatoes around the surface of the tray. Some of it was actually going into her mouth with loud, satisfied smacking sounds.

Puzzled, John said "Okay... what?" He found a tea towel and wiped some of the orange lumps off of his daughter's cheeks.

"When I got Rosie from Mrs. Hudson this afternoon she called me 'Da'." Sherlock paused, taking in John's reaction.

"Oh." John put the towel aside and then smiled. "Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? She's got two men in her life so naturally she associates 'Da' with men." He stepped over to Sherlock, whose worried expression was starting to fade, and ga ve him a kiss. "It's fine if she calls you Da. It's true."

Sherlock took John into his arms and said, "I love the both of you, so thank you for sharing her with me. She's completely fascinating and never ever predictable."

Rosie proved Sherlock's point by hitting him squarely in the back with a handful of carrot-maybe-sweet-potato lumpy orange goo.

~

So, Rosie kept on calling both her father and Sherlock 'Da'.

She called Mycroft 'Mick' which, to Sherlock's delight, annoyed Mycroft to no end. ("Really, John, can't you at least try and correct her? It's undignified, she makes me sound like a football hooligan.")

Mrs. Hudson was simply 'Hud' and she liked that just fine. ("Makes me feel like I'm a bad arse mothe... well you know what I mean.")

Molly was of course 'Moll', Greg was 'Geg' and together (because they were also now a _they_ ) they were 'Gegmoll'.

She had added 'buzz' and 'dead' to her growing list of words, but 'Da-da' was still not forthcoming.

~

Mrs. Hudson was taking care of Rosie on the day it happened.

A delivery truck arrived at Borough Market, empty save for the driver who happened to be dead in the back. The majority of the cargo of fish it was carrying was gone.

Turned out that inside one of the fish there was a star sapphire the size of a chicken's egg. The jewel thief had stashed the stone in the fish, then lost track of which fish held his booty. He hid in the back of the truck, tearing apart the fish and tossing the non-jeweled ones out the back. When the driver pulled into the market to find his cargo mostly missing the thief killed the driver and fled.

Finding him was easy, Sherlock and John had only to follow the trail of dead fish back to the point where the truck took on its cargo. After a short search of a run-down wear house, they had the crook and the stone in hand.

"What will y ou call this on the blog then?" Sherlock asked as he made his way up to their flat.

"I was thinking of calling it 'The Scales of Justice'." They had had to scuffle with the thief and he was covered in scales and fish guts. John had been picking scales off his and Sherlock's clothing the whole way home. He reached up to remove one from Sherlock's cheek, "What do you think?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, a bit, and nodded. "Quite."

They entered the sitting room to find Rosie asleep in the middle of the rug, surrounded by toys and what appeared to be every pair of socks in the flat and Mrs. Hudson on the sofa reading a magazine.

"Oh, boys, I'm glad you're home. This one," she pointed to Rosie, "is as stubborn as her fathers are. She didn't like the socks she had on, kept pulling them off. So I got her another pair. Well, she didn't like those either. I finally let her choose and she grabbed them all. None of them went on her feet, as you can see." There were ten un-socked toes visible.

Mrs. H got up to leave as John bent to brush his hand over his daughter's soft hair. "She's only just fallen asleep."

"I'll let her sleep then." At the sound of his voice, Rosie, of course, woke up. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes - there was a sock on one of her tiny fists - and said, "Da-da!"

John beamed at her, "What was that, my Rosie girl?" He bent to pick her up. Sherlock was there next to him smiling at them both.

"Da-da! Da-da!" She repeated.

"See, John? I told you she would get there."

Mrs. Hudson tutted at them, "You silly clots, don't you see what's going on? To her, each of you is 'Da'. _Together_ you're 'Da-da'."

John looked to Sherlock with tears beginning to shine in his eyes, "Well, Da, shall we get cleaned up and feed our girl?"

"Yes. That sounds fine." Sherlock kissed Rosie's cheek. "What do you feel like having, Da?"

John chuckled and hugged his family, "Anything but fish."

Rosie made her feelings known with an eloquent pronouncement: "Da-da yuck!"


End file.
